


Never ask out the girl of your dreams a week before Valentine’s Day

by hellostarlight20



Series: Prompts [20]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: AU, F/M, Humor, florist, or as much humor as I ever write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 06:12:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5994456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellostarlight20/pseuds/hellostarlight20
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten x Rose, florist, au prompt from @Kelkat9</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never ask out the girl of your dreams a week before Valentine’s Day

“Rule number one,” the Doctor muttered and looked up one side of the heart-covered street and down the other. “Never ask out the girl of your dreams a week before Valentine’s Day.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. There were merits in giving her _The Complete Works of Shakespeare_ as with the major works of Charles Dickens. Merits to dinner and a quiet walk in a park (despite it being February) or a drive into the countryside to see the stars.

Then again, there were merits to chocolate and flowers.

He turned sharply and entered the first shop on his right. It happened to be a florist’s and that was fine. Flowers. Can’t go wrong with flowers.

Next year, should Rose _not_ realize what a complete—what had Martha called him?— _science geek_ he was and want to spend more than one evening listening to him ramble at the observatory in Greenwich and one lunch date wandering through the Natural History Museum (while he also rambled), he’d buy her something else.

A meaningful present.

Today, the day before Valentine’s Day and an hour before he promised to pick her up for their third date to Brixton Village, he chose flowers. Or they chose him. He was, after all, a little desperate.

The woman behind the counter looked sharp-eyed at him as he entered and, the Doctor couldn’t help but notice, zeroed in on him in an eerily precise way.

He would’ve fled. Seriously. And bought chocolates instead. But the woman already steered him, with impressive use of her slender body but not one hand on him, toward the Valentine’s display.

“I’m sure she’ll love lillies,” the saleswoman prattled on almost as quickly as he usually did.

The Doctor blinked, fascinated. But today was not a day for that. Today, _this hour_ , was for Valentine’s Day flowers.

“I’m looking—”

Her eyes locked with his and she flicked away his answer as easily as she would a fly. “I know what you’re looking for. We won’t go with roses, too obvious, how about lilies or hydrangeas?”

“Er…I was thinking more of a random selection,” he managed. “I don’t really know what she likes.”

Which was his own fault, he’d wasted so much time…

The woman, whose apron proudly proclaimed her _Idris—Owner of For Your Hearts Florists_ , frowned disapprovingly. “No, really, lilies. They’re perfect.”

He tugged his ear and watched the flowers as if they might come to life and bite him. This was a very strange shop, well the owner was very strange, and was he the only person in here besides Idris? Still… man eating flowers—one never knew.

“Maybe I’ll get her chocolates,” he ventured.

“Lilies,” Idris insisted.

“Or a nice bouquet with daisies and chrysanthemums and maybe some sunflowers?” he asked more than stated. The Doctor cleared his throat and nodded decisively. “Yes. A bouquet with daisies and chrysanthemums and sunflowers. Bright and festive on a bleary February day.”

Idris frowned. “They’re not exchangeable.”

The Doctor looked at her askance. “Why would you exchange flowers?” he huffed, rocking back on his chucks. “Why would anyone think they’d want to exchange flowers? What do they say— _Hey, these didn’t work, let’s try something else?_ ”

Lips pursed, Idris bustled away, leaving the Doctor to stare at her. His phone buzzed and he took it from his jacket pocket. One eye on Idris and one on possible man-eating plants, he barely realized Rose texted him.

_Indoor or outdoor excursion?_

He ginned widely, weird florist forgotten. Rose always took his full attention, had done since they met.

Well, more like run-in… well…more like him not paying attention and slamming into her in a most embarrassing way in the lobby of her dad’s Vitex headquarters. At the beginning of December. He really had no one to blame but himself for procrastinating in asking her.

He’d only been there as a favor to Mickey Smith by way of his friend and former med student study partner Martha Jones to look at a server virus he and Mickey suspected might be from the hacker known as The Master.

No, the Doctor couldn’t say he regretted helping Mr. Mickey that day.

He did regret not asking Rose out sooner. And still waited for her to realize how far out of his league she actually was. 

_Outdoor, dress warmly._ He typed back and resisted (barely) adding how he missed her and couldn’t wait to see her. Was that weird? For a third date? Probably.

_I’ll be ready! :)_

Humming, the Doctor looked up at Idris, who arranged the flowers with a knowing glare directed toward him. He frowned but purposefully walked to the counter to pay. They really were lovely.

“Just remember,” she said as he handed over the notes. “No exchanges.”

With a final look at the clearly insane woman, seriously who exchanged _flowers_ , the Doctor took the bouquet and headed for the Underground. Thirty minutes later, when Rose opened the door dressed casually in jeans, scuffed black boots, and a red jumper, he promptly forgot everything.

“Hi,” she smiled.

“Hello.” He grinned back and offered the flowers.

She took them with an even wider smile. “They’re lovely, thank you!”

“You’re welcome,” he said and felt like the geek Martha often accused him of being. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he managed. “I’m sorry we can’t do anything tomorrow, but—”

Rose sneezed. The Doctor froze. She sneezed again and shoved the flowers at him. Confused, he took them, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind but nothing concrete enough to stick.

“I’m sorry,” Rose said, eyes watery. “I’m allergic to sunflowers.”

The Doctor dropped the bouquet. He glared at them as if they personally failed him and kicked them off to the side. Then he hastily wiped his hands on his coat. In case any sunflower pollen fell onto them.

“Rose, I’m sorry,” he said, the words bubbling up in his throat. Damn, he’d bullocks this whole thing up on the _third_ date! “I’m so sorry, I had no idea! I wanted to get you something for Valentine’s Day, to make up for the fact I already agreed to have dinner with Uncle Wilf and Donna.”

“It’s okay,” she said around a sniffle and smile. “Come in, let me grab some tissues.”

Hands shoved in his pockets, the Doctor followed her inside, uncomfortable and embarrassed. Then realized he needed to wash his hands and make sure no sunflower pollen clung to his coat. Grimacing, he strode toward the kitchen and quickly scrubbed his hands, using a damp paper towel to brush at his suede coat.

Returning to the foyer, he looked around her flat and tried to occupy himself while Rose searched for tissues. Nice, open, lots of windows and hardwood floors, but not much else. Couple pictures and a painting that looked like it belonged in a museum instead of a home.

Not that this looked like a home. No, the Doctor realized, it definitely looked more like _his_ Spartan flat than a home. Frowning, he stared around the place once more.

“Ready?” Rose asked, looking none-the-worse for wear. Her eyes looked a little watery and she sniffled a bit, but she didn’t overall look as if she had an allergy attack from the stupid flowers he bought her.

“I really am sorry, Rose,” he whispered.

“It’s okay, Doctor.” She took his hand and squeezed. Her smile was soft and it did things to his heart, made it flip and speed up and echo in his head. “You couldn’t know. And they really are beautiful. Where’d you find them?”

“Oh.” He waved it off and guided her toward the entrance and away from the cold interior. It just didn’t mesh with the image he had of Rose. The warmth and brightness he envisioned whenever he thought of her.

“A florist,” he said as she grabbed her coat and purse. He helped her with her coat and wished it wasn’t so cold out that she needed gloves. He quite liked holding her hand.

“Yeah? We’ll have to go sometime,” she said though her gloved hand tightened around his.

A sign of nerves? He didn’t understand that, and grinned down at her as she locked the door.

“Not this one,” he muttered with another glare at the offending flowers lying innocuously on the step. “She was a bit odd. Prattled on about no exchanges.”

Rose paused at the foot of the steps. She frowned but took his hand again. Yes, he quite liked holding her hand. Even with gloves.

“Who exchanges _flowers_?” she wondered.

“No idea.” He shrugged and led her toward the Underground. “But she did suggest lilies.”

“Oh, I love lilies,” Rose said and gave a little laugh. “And I’m not allergic to them.”

Sheepish, he started to apologize again then stopped. Head tilted, he thought over his very odd encounter with Idris the Florist.

“Doctor?” Rose asked as they turned a corner. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly. “Nothing. But maybe next week I’ll take you to that florists.” He grinned and hoped his nervousness over not-too-subtly asking her on another date didn’t show through. “Have you pick your own Valentine’s flowers.”

“I don’t need flowers,” she said as they walked down the steps to the Underground. “This is perfect.”

Once more words bubbled in his throat—the origin of Valentine’s Day and the number of flowers sold for that day and offers of a different date one more Valentine’s Day-y, but Rose grinned up at him, tongue peeking out the side of her mouth, and he forgot all about everything but her.

Full attention on Rose Tyler, he pulled her to the side and kissed her. It was slow and soft, not the rush of passion he constantly felt heating his blood but the rightness of _them_. The Doctor couldn’t explain it but welcomed it, embraced it, even as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer.

Someone bumped into Rose and broke the kiss.

Eyes wide, darker than normal, she reached up and brushed a finger over his lips. “Been hoping to do that since we met,” she said, voice lower, huskier.

“Yeah?” he asked, swallowed and cleared his throat. Pulled her closer.

“Yeah.” And kissed him again.

Head spinning, heart pounding, the Doctor slowly, slowly pulled back. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask you out then.”

“Yeah?” Rose asked, grinning widely. “Me, too. I didn’t think you were interested.”

“Rose Tyler,” he whispered and pressed his lips to hers for a quick peck. “I’m very interested in you.”

“Good.” She grabbed his tie and pulled him closer, deepened the kiss. Breathing heavily she pulled back. “I’m very interested in you, too, Doctor.”

“Good.” He cleared his throat again and retook her hand.

“Very good.” Rose laughed and leaned her head on his shoulder.

He grinned happily as they queued for the train. He may not know Rose Tyler as well as he wanted, but he was absolutely confident by next Valentine’s Day he’d know everything about her.

Including her favorite flower.


End file.
